


Santa Baby

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Dean has a Panty Kink, Dean in Panties, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gives Dean an unexpected Christmas gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, established Castiel/Dean
> 
>  
> 
> **The thirteenth installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

Dean huddled close to Castiel’s side, watching with pride as the angel turned the engraved M1911 over in his hands. Christmas Eve was quickly becoming Dean’s favorite day ever.

“Figured we’d better get you some shooting lessons if we’re gonna do this properly,” Dean smiled.

“Are you sure? It’s your gun, Dean, I know how much this means to you,” he said, blinking up at him with reverence in his eyes, an Dean’s damn heart fluttered. 

“Nowhere near as much as you do,” he smirked, leaning in to press his lips to Castiel’s messy hair. “You might not always be powered up, you gotta be able to look after yourself in case I’m not around.”

“Saps,” Sam laughed from the armchair next to them, where he sat engrossed in the rare old tome Castiel had found for him. 

Dean snorted. “Jealous.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning as he flicked through thick, yellowed pages. 

“I still have my gift for you,” Castiel said as he shuffled around under Dean’s arm, pulling a matte black gift bag from its hiding place beside the couch. 

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” Dean beamed, digging his way inside, and pulling out the contents. 

His bright grin faltered, and he stared at the Agent Provocateur box in his hands with wide eyes. Surely not.

“The store assistant said these were the perfect gift for a partner, she was very helpful,” Cas smiled, as Dean, with hands that didn’t feel like his own, opened the box and peeled back the tissue paper. “I picked the colors to complement your skin tone and eyes, and they should fit perfectly—I have your dimensions committed to memory.”

Dean stared down in horror at the neatly folded pile of silk and lace in his lap, carefully pulling a piece from the box and holding it up. 

“Ho-oly shit,” Sam said, but his voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. 

“The lady thought that was rather romantic,” Castiel hummed thoughtfully, unaware of Dean’s freak out only inches away from him. “I decided not to tell her that I know them because, after your retrieval from Hell, I had to essentially rebuild your body.”

It was the softest fucking thing he’d ever felt and good fucking god, he was _not_ getting hard just touching it.

“Dean?”

He looked up with wide, panicked eyes, taking in the angel’s frown and trying desperately to ignore his brother’s barely stifled hysteria. Dean cleared his bone dry throat, clutching the half-opened gift over his crotch as he stood, and beelined for the door. 

He just about managed to stop himself from running down the hallway, legs stiff as he headed for his room, and slammed the door behind him. With a terrified glance down at his hands, he threw the offending lingerie box onto the bed and all but sprinted for his en suite, turning the sink’s cold tap up full blast and splashing the icy water on his face. With trembling hands, Dean held onto the ceramic, and looked up at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were cherry red, eyes glassy, lips parted as breath escaped them in a rush. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he was a mess.

He managed to compose himself enough to shut off the water and drag himself back to the bed, but as soon as he sat down, he caught sight of the box he’d discarded, and god, he was a wreck all over again. His cock was near rock hard, pressing achingly against his jeans, but damn if he was gonna undo his fly and— 

There was a tentative knock at the door, and before he could do anything, it began to open.

Dean grabbed a pillow from the bed, quickly depositing it over his lap. Fuck, if Sam was coming in to laugh, that wasn’t something he needed to be sporting a boner for. God, he’d never hear the fucking end of that one. With the lack of privacy their life had granted them, the kid had seen a lot of shit, but a boner over damned panties wasn’t something he could even try to explain without the ground opening up and swallowing him whole. 

He let out a heavy breath though when Cas’ head peeked around the door, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to fake the flu or something. 

“Can I come in?” the angel asked, eyes downcast.

Dean bit down hard on his lower lip. “Uh, yeah.”

“Sam explained the situation to me,” Castiel said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. Dean couldn’t help how painfully aware he was of the box sitting between them.

He forced his eyes away, struggling to swallow. “He did, huh?”

“I’m sorry if I offended or embarrassed you, Dean,” Castiel frowned. “I’m still a little… rusty when it comes to human tradition. I didn’t realize your culture genders clothing so ruthlessly, I thought you would be pleased.”

“Cas,” Dean said, voice coming out a little strangled. He watched with wide, dilated eyes as Castiel picked up a pair of cherry red panties, running the silken fabric thoughtfully through his fingers.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean with sad eyes. 

“You—no,” Dean choked out.

“Are you sure?” he persisted, stroking his thumb in rhythmic circles over the satin, and fuck, Dean was gonna start panting like a damned dog. “I’ll return them immediately.” 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean whined, moving the pillow he had been holding desperately to his lap. 

Castiel followed the movement with his eyes, which widened comically when he realized what was wrong. “Oh,” he said, pleasant surprise in his voice as he glanced down at the painfully prominent bulge in Dean’s jeans.

“Yeah,” Dean said thickly, sweaty fingers clenched in the sheets beside his thighs. “If you don’t stop stroking them like that, I’m gonna blow my load. Please,” he begged pathetically.

Castiel tilted his head, observing Dean’s brightly flushed cheeks with earnest curiosity. “I’m confused. You do like them?” 

If possible, Dean blushed harder. “It’s—I’m fucked up, I know, but…” 

“No,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “You’re beautiful, and you’re perfect. I’m incredibly relieved to hear my gift wasn’t a complete disaster when yours was so thoughtful.”

“It wasn’t a disaster,” Dean croaked, averting his eyes.

There was a moment of silence, and Castiel shifted closer towards him on the bed. “Would you try a pair on for me?” he asked innocently. 

Dean turned to him with wide eyes. “What, _now_?” he blinked, panicking. 

Castiel shrugged, a calming smile on his face. “Sam has gone to bed. It’s only you and I.”

“I—” Dean stuttered. “Cas, they’re for women.” 

The angel watched him flounder like one would humor a child. “They’re pieces of fabric, Dean. You’ve been conditioned to believe that your gender is what you are, and that it, and your clothing, defines you, but that’s far from the case.” His fingers entwined with Dean’s on the bed, and Dean stared at them, biting the inside of his lip. “Please don’t let something so culturally constructed dictate who you should be and what you should enjoy.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he croaked. “I guess being celestial and genderless kinda puts it in perspective for you, huh?”

Castiel laughed. “You could say that.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back,” Dean said, untangling their hands and standing, hesitantly picking up the box. 

“I’ll be here,” Castiel smiled, and Dean’s pulsed race. God, he was really gonna do this. 

He crossed his room the the bathroom on shaking legs, shutting the door behind him and collapsing against it for a moment to breathe. 

This is Castiel, and he accepts you for who you are. _They’re pieces of fabric_.

He stripped off his shirt and peeled his jeans from his legs, hissing at the relief of undoing his zipper and somewhat freeing his erection. The boxers followed, joining the pile of clothing at his feet, and he was completely naked. With a deep breath, he pulled the cherry panties from the top of the pile, the ones Castiel had caressed, and slid them up his legs. 

Cas was right. They fit perfectly. And they felt fucking sinful. His erection was barely covered by the silk, but it just about worked, sliding against his hypersensitive skin with every move he made. 

Before he lost his nerve and took them off again, he opened the door and forced himself outside. Castiel turned to look, falling entirely still as his eyes scanned Dean’s body. 

“You are exquisite, Dean,” he breathed, holding his arms out. Dean hesitantly came closer, until he was within touching distance. Castiel’s fingers brushed along the silky smooth satin stretched across his hip bones, and leaned in to rest his forehead on Dean’s chest. “Absolutely exquisite.”

The hushed breath tickled against his sensitive skin, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath. Castiel’s thumbs were making steady circles across the fabric, inching lower and lower. 

“Jesus fuck,” he choked out when Castiel pressed an open mouthed kiss to his stomach, and his resultant jump had the satin pulling tight across his cock.

“Blasphemy,” Castiel scolded lightheartedly, hooking his fingers under the elastic at the top but doing nothing with it, only teasing at the skin beneath with his fingertips. “You’re ravishing.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so,” Dean mumbled, head tipped back. 

Suddenly, Castiel’s touch disappeared, and Dean whined in protest. When he looked down, Castiel was frowning up at him from where he perched on the edge of the mattress. “Get on the bed.”

“Wha—” Dean began, but before he could even finish the thought, he was being dragged down and flipped onto his back. Castiel was over him in seconds, straddling his thighs. 

“You do not see yourself clearly,” he murmured, lips brushing Dean’s as he stripped himself of his jacket and tie, leaving him only in his shirt and slacks. “You are the most magnificent creature in my whole world.”

Dean groaned, hips bucking into the friction of Cas above him as the angel laved at his exposed throat. A hand stroked its way down his sides, over his pelvis, until Castiel’s palm fit over the straining bulge of his erection. “Yeah,” he breathed, grinding up into the pressure. “Fuck, so good.”

The fabric was starting to dampen with precome, sticking to his skin, but it felt fantastic, and Dean couldn’t get enough. When the angel abandoned his collarbones and his tender nipples in favor of running his tongue down the divot in Dean’s abs, he swore he was gonna cry.

By the time Castiel’s lips reached his hips, hot breath hitting his satin-clad cock, Dean was sobbing. 

“Perfect,” Castiel praised, running his nose along the barely covered shaft, and as much as Dean tried to writhe, the angel’s inhuman strength pinned his hips to the bed, forcing him to be still. 

He licked and sucked at the base of Dean’s cock through the soaked fabric, dragging against it with his tongue, and fuck, it was so wet and hot and slick, and Dean was gonna die, he was gonna explode.

“ _Cas_ ,” he mewled pathetically, fists clenched tight in the angel’s hair as Castiel pulled the fabric ever so slightly lower. 

Suddenly, a burning mouth enveloped the angry, leaking tip of his cock, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from crying out, hips bucking wildly within the angel’s grin. The fingers of one hand stroked his agonizingly tight balls through the satin, gently tugging, and a thumb pressed down rhythmically on his perineum through the panties.

“Oh god, oh god,” he whined, muscles in his legs quivering violently as his whole body tensed. “I’m gonna—”

Castiel pulled back long enough to shimmy the panties down, and, maintaining eye contact the whole time, swallowed Dean down all in one. And like that, Dean was gone.

He fought to moan, scream, cry, anything at all as he was wracked with wave after blistering wave of burning relief that dragged him under, but his throat seized up with the rest of his muscles, and he couldn’t get a single sound out. By the time the aftershocks had lessened and faded away all together, he was wrung out and limp, sinking into the mattress like a ragdoll.

“Beautiful,” Castiel sighed happily, nuzzling Dean’s slightly too-soft stomach with his nose. 

“Fuck,” Dean managed to pant out, like a melted puddle on the bed. Vaguely, he noted Castiel lifting his hips and ridding him of the soiled panties, cleaning him with his tongue. 

He could barely muster the strength to untangle his cramping hands from Cas’ bedhead, let alone move, when Castiel was crawling his way up his body, peppering the sweat-slick skin with butterfly kisses. 

“Indeed,” Castiel chuckled lowly, reaching Dean’s mouth. 

Dean could taste himself on Cas’ lips, and fuck, if he hadn’t just had his brains sucked out of his cock, it would have been enough to have him up and ready for round two. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and just as he thought he couldn’t possibly feel any better, that he’d reached cloud nine and was never coming down, something soft and silky rubbed its way across his painfully sensitive nipples. He blinked, catching Castiel’s bright, glazed eyes above him, and as his gaze wandered, it landed on the midnight blue thong contraption hanging from the angel’s fingers.

“Presumably,” Cas purred in his ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, “these ones are designed so that I can penetrate you without the need to remove them.”

Dean whimpered. “Best Christmas ever.”


End file.
